


Well Met

by MickMackNickNack



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22303834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MickMackNickNack/pseuds/MickMackNickNack
Summary: Murazor meets Khamul for the first time.
Relationships: Khamûl/Witch-King of Angmar
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Well Met

Mûrazor sat stiffly in the rooms he had been ushered to, which had been labelled  _ Er-Mûrazor, Sabra Khamûl _ . 

He had never heard that name before, but there  _ had  _ been mention of one of their ranks being a woman, and the name Sabra certainly sounded female. He stared at the carvings on the wall for a minute, then sighed. 

He had nothing to do. His bags had been unpacked, horse stabled, he had talked to the Dark Lord, and on top of all of that, he had already explored his current accommodations. 

_ You could find the library and do some more research into sorcery, you know _ . He heaved another sigh and stood. It was more productive than sitting around, anyway. 

The search for the library led him to a man named Hoarmurath, who was quite friendly and showed him exactly where he needed to go. 

Hoarmurath was apparently one of the nine men chosen to receive a ring, but it seemed that he was uncertain of its purpose. After several moments of chatter, they reached the room they were searching for. 

Mûrazor returned from the library holding three books and feeling much less bored.  _ At least I have someone to talk to now.  _

He sat down at the desk and opened the first book.  _ I’ll meet Sabra when she arrives.  _

Ten minutes later, a knock echoed throughout the room. “Come in,” Mûrazor called out. The door opened slowly as if the person on the other side was afraid of what was inside. He walked over to the door and opened it. 

A man around Mûrazor’s height tumbled in, all dark skin and hair and glinting black eyes. “H-hello,” he stammered.  _ Well, you didn’t make much of an impression!  _ he scolded himself.  _ You’ll be living with him for a while, after all! _

“Looking for room with my name, the problem I cannot read Westron,” the man said breathlessly. 

“What is your name, then?” 

“Sabra Khamûl. Khamûl is not…family name. Other way.” 

“Your name is Khamûl?” 

“Yes.” Mûrazor winced. Of course, he  _ had _ to make a fool of himself in front of the most attractive man he had ever--

And those thoughts had to go. Now. 


End file.
